Skip to main content

A long lost precious, little thing

I lifted my paintbrush,
dipped it into the acrylic,
and began to explore.

I moved with unknowing ease,
shaping my creation not with my brain—
but with my heart.

I blended and sharpened edges,
my paintbrush dirty,
my bedroom closed,
my clothes and skin stained—
but my heart felt free.

Like little me,
who once escaped the world
with her rough, raw sketches.

It brought a joy out of me.
It felt like a forest,
and I walked and walked
until I stumbled into a home I had forgotten.

There was no darkness,
no pain,
nothing else—
just me
and my brush
exploring.

No matter how many errors,
I could re-brush,
cover it up,
work on its healing
instead of leaving it behind.

I painted today.
I called it
"Fragility Meets Cosmic Quantum Mysticism"

And I didn’t stop there.
I plan to do more—
to create more.
Because no matter how many times I fail,
I can begin again
with just a splash of colour.

I write and paint now.
Yes,
I write and paint.
What a journey it has become.

Like the flower in the art:
small and fragile—
yet rooted in something intangible,
strong and grounded.

I paint,
and paint,
and paint—
like I should’ve always done.

Darkness can balance itself with light.
And light doesn’t need to overshadow dark.

It may be peculiar,
but for someone like me,
whose worlds slip away moment to moment,
I must thank thee—

for guiding me
to a home I once turned away from.

Everything I know and love
never changed.
Maybe it doesn't have to.
And maybe—
it’s not so scary.

No.
It is not scary.




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I Awoke from Morpheus

you glowed and bejeweled the moonflowers, poison filled with illusory hope and serenity. and we both embraced, and we both strangled each other. we burn— oh, we burn so brightly, dear one. and yet, we turned too bright, and thus, we cascade down. no valley of flowers, no iridescent moonlight. no light, no hope— we burned into ashes. there goes my Morpheus, and so shall I cease to be. maybe in another life, we could have been. yes, we could have been. once, the light of my life, now becoming no more than a mere shadow that existed yesterday. there you go, like a dandelion, twirling away like a false prophet to one’s dreams and wishes. if only you had known how fickle words could have been, as people grow— and outgrow them. and yet, we live on, tragically, with beauty and grace.
Post a Comment
Read more

Coffee with my younger self: II

I went about my way as I abandoned that little girl and left her to beg for help from others, like I once did. Asking, pleading for love and affection. I cannot go back to her. I know I’ve already left her behind. I want her to sleep in peace, to dream beautiful dreams that make her happy. I cannot dream like that, mine are either hollow or nightmares.  She doesn’t deserve to see that. She doesn’t deserve to know. She will find kindness from strangers who take her home. She will eat warm meals, sleep with a full belly, and close her eyes with wonder. I, on the other hand, can barely digest food or I eat like a pig and I dread going to bed. She doesn’t deserve to witness that. Her face is so full of joy, hope, and love. Mine is tired, hollow, and worn. She has to live the life she always dreamed of: smiling, hoping.  I can’t even go one hour without a cigarette. After all the pain I caused her today, I know she’ll still forgive me. She might hate me for an hour or two, but she’...
Post a Comment
Read more

A favourite person

  What is favourite? Preferred one of the other or others. How lucky is someone who has a favourite person Or the person who is someone’ favourite person? What is the use of someone who has a favourite person? Just someone who is beloved and cherish endlessly and unconditionally Someone is their first for everything and anything By choice; By one’s very own choice. The act of having a favourite person is a universal experience How beautiful it is to love and choose someone over anything and everything And how gratuitous it is to have someone loving and choosing endlessly Endlessly.   I for one have never felt like I am someone’s favourite Nor have I felt like having anyone as my true favourite I have been chosen as a “favourite” for conditional and circumstantial reasons Ever since I was little But it is alright, I bear no ill will or bitterness I do know that I, for one was not a very pleasant and “chooseable” option For a friend Mayb...
Post a Comment
Read more